


Two's Company, Three's Just Right

by likeasugarcube



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Pining, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 17:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeasugarcube/pseuds/likeasugarcube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick and Joe fool around when they think nobody's looking. They're wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two's Company, Three's Just Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coricomile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/gifts).



The first time it happens, it's by accident.

Pete's awake. He's been awake for a while. It's hard for him to sleep pretty much anywhere, but it's even harder when they're crammed in the van like sardines and there's a box of merch that wouldn't fit anywhere else down by his feet.

Then he hears the rustling of the sleeping bag next to him. Patrick's in the center tonight, with Joe on his other side. There shouldn't be any noise from either of them. Patrick can sleep anywhere and Joe _always_ sleeps like the dead after a show.

More rustling.

"What are you doing?" he hears Joe whisper.

There should be no reason for either of them to be awake. Pete wonders if his insomnia is somehow catching. And then.

"What do you _think_?"

Even with his eyes closed Pete can see the smirk on Patrick's face. He's still got a clear picture in his head when he hears Joe gasp a second later. Well, Pete thinks. That's unexpected.

"Jesus Christ, dude. Pete is _right there_." Another gasp.

"He's asleep," Patrick insists.

"Pete never sleeps."

Pete's glad he's facing away from them, because while he managed not to laugh, he couldn't keep from smiling. Patrick does laughs, but it sounds muffled. He's probably burying his face in Joe's chest, or maybe his neck. Pete wonders what Patrick's doing to make Joe gasp like that.

He feels vaguely guilty for listening in, but honestly, they're the ones who are hooking up two feet away from him. He'll save the guilt for later when he jerks off thinking about it.

\--

The second time is a little less accidental. They're at a shitty little diner in Jersey, in transit from New York to Philly, and Andy's gone up to pay the check. Patrick says he's hitting up the bathroom, Joe follows him a minute later.

Five minutes later, they're still not back. Andy's flirting with the girl at the cash register and Pete's alone at their table when it occurs to him. He thinks about Joe's little gasps in the back of the van and suddenly his jeans are too tight for comfort. It wouldn't be weird for him to go in and tell them to get a fucking move on. That's a totally acceptable cover.

He opens the door to the men's room slowly. There are only three stalls. When he bends down he can see two pairs of feet in the far stall. Well, to be more accurate, he can see one pair of feet, and one person on their knees.

Pete should leave. He should turn around right now and go wait at the table.

"Oh fuck," Joe's voice says.

Pete holds his breath and doesn't move.

If he listens closely he can hear wet sucking sounds, and Joe's soft little sighs.

"Nnggh," Joe says. " _Patrick_."

There's a slick 'pop' and then Patrick's voice is saying, "Don't pull my fucking hair, asshole."

Joe laughs.

"I'm sorry, okay? You're just really good at that."

Pete is going to die. He's going to die right here in this dirty bathroom in New Jersey and his bandmates are going to find him and know what a pervert he is.

"Yeah, well," Patrick says, and Pete can practically see his bitchface, "I practice."

"Less talking, more sucking, come on," Joe says. And then there are those sounds again.

Fuck, Pete thinks. If he ever said that to someone who was blowing him he'd get a knee to the balls.

" _Fuck_ ," Joe groans again, drawing out the syllables.

Pete doesn't know how he's going to make it back to van without anyone noticing his raging hard-on, but he doesn't care. He can't leave now.

"Stop teasing and let me get off, you jackass. They're going to come looking for us."

Pete hears a muffled cry a few seconds later, like Joe has his hand over his mouth.

"I'm pretty sure Andy already knows," Patrick says. There's the sound of him standing, and zippers being done up. Pete's about to leave, his hand is on the door.

"It's mostly Pete I'm worried about," Joe says.

Pete stills.

"Mmm," Patrick agrees. "Let's not let that happen, okay? He'll have a total meltdown."

Pete holds his breath and opens the door as quickly and quietly as he can. He makes a beeline for the front door and heads out to the van. Andy's already inside waiting.

"Where are Patrick and Joe?"

"Fuck if I know, dude," Pete says as he climbs into the back. "I was on the phone. I thought they were with you."

Andy makes a frustrated sound. Pete half expects Andy to launch into a "kids these days" tirade when Patrick and Joe finally come wandering back a few minutes later. As they climb into the van, Pete reaches into the back and grabs a hoodie to cover his lap. He's still half hard, even now. He puts his headphones on and doesn't think about the things he just heard.

\--

 

If Pete didn't know any better, he would swear Patrick and Joe were _trying_ to get caught. In the past few months he's almost walked in on them backstage, minutes before they were about to go on; behind the van, as they were loading up merch; at Joe's house, after band practice. Pete remembers what it was like to be 17, to want everything, all the time, but seriously. He's this close to titling his next blog post, "how to be stealthy (youre kind of failing)".

He knows the sounds they make by heart now. He can tell when Patrick's being a tease, slowing down just before Joe's about to come. Or when Joe's sucking a hickey into Patrick's throat, just low enough to be covered by his hoodies. They've both provided him with enough beat off material to last him the rest of his life.

He stills feels vaguely guilty about it. But not guilty enough to keep from locking himself in the bathroom on motel nights, shoving his hand down his pants, and picturing Patrick on his knees in front of Joe.

And then it stops. Pete realizes one day, months later, that's it's been a long time since he walked into a room and had to inch back out slowly and silently for fear of them seeing him. Pete wonders for a moment if they broke up and has a moment of panic about what that could do to the band. But the way they're laughing and giving each other shit before soundcheck tells him otherwise.

Pete thinks, finally. They've learned better.

\--

It's almost two years later when Pete walks onto the bus and finds them half naked in the front lounge. Joe is shirtless and lying on top of Patrick, whose pants are on the floor next to the couch.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Pete says. "We have _bunks_ now."

"Pete," Joe says, startled. "It's uh -- it's not --"

"You are not _seriously_ going to try and tell me it's not what it looks like, are you? Dude, you guys have been together, what, like three years now?"

Joe looks sheepish. Patrick's got his hands over his face, but what Pete can still see is bright red.

"You guys are idiots," Pete says. He shakes his head and walks away back to his bunk.

Pete can hear them arguing through the door. It's muffled enough that he can't make out what they're saying, but there's no mistaking it for an argument. Joe stumbles through the door a minute later. He's still in the process of pulling his shirt back on when Pete sticks his head out to look at him.

"Hey," Joe says awkwardly. "So you're not like, mad at us?"

"Why the fuck would I be mad at you?" Pete asks.

Joe shrugs.

"Don't bullshit me, dude. You wouldn't have tried to keep it a secret for so long if you didn't have an actual reason."

Joe blinks at him.

"Dude, seriously?" he says. "It's _you_."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Joe's looking at him like he's an idiot.

"We thought you'd be -- you know. Jealous or something."

Pete's about to respond when he realizes he doesn't even know what to say to that. The word rolls around in his head. Jealous.

He and Joe have made out exactly once. They've talked about it exactly zero times. Joe was sixteen and stoned. He wanted to know what it was like to kiss a guy. Pete was off his meds and hadn't slept in too long. They were spread out on sleeping bags and he pulled Joe close. They kissed until they fell asleep.

And as for Patrick. Well. They've never actually kissed. Not in a way that wasn't Pete showing off for cameras, or just generally being obnoxious. But Pete's been half in love with him since the day they met. In that way where he knew he could never really have Patrick for himself, but couldn't keep some small part of him from wanting him anyway.

Pete feels sick to his stomach.

"I'm fine," he grits out. He pulls the curtain back on his bunk and puts on his headphones. Fuck the both of them, he thinks. What do they know?

\--

There's a light tapping on the side of his bunk a few hours later. Patrick's the only one who ever bothers to "knock."

"What?" Pete asks grumpily.

"Pete? Can we talk?" Patrick asks.

Pete pulls back the curtain.

"I told Joe I was fine," he says.

"Maybe I just wanted to make sure for myself," Patrick says quietly.

"I'm _fine_."

Patrick has that look on his face that he gets sometimes when they're writing. Like he knows he's right about something and he's going to fight Pete on it until Pete gives in.

"Fine," he says, but there's a hint of anger in his voice. "If that's how you want to be, then _fine_."

As Patrick walks away in a huff, Pete desperately wants to say something sharp and biting. Just to get a response. Just to make him hurt because Pete is hurting. To his credit, Pete manages to keep his mouth shut for once. He rolls over, pulls his blanket up over his head, and tries not to think about how Patrick and his stupid attempts to make him feel better about the fact that they'll never be together.

\--

Things aren't going well.

Patrick's been treating him like he thinks Pete is going to have another breakdown, like he's going to shatter into a million pieces and there will be no way to put him back together this time. Joe regards him as though he's a ticking time bomb, going to explode at any moment and take all of them with him.

The shows have sucked. No one has said anything about it yet, but they can all tell. They're off.

Andy calls a band meeting that evening. They gather in the lounge after dinner. Pete sits as far away from Patrick and Joe as humanly possible.

"So I think you've all noticed these last few shows have kind of sucked."

There are vague mumbles of agreement all around.

"And since I know I am certainly not the problem here, I want to know what the fuck is wrong with you three?"

"Nothing," Pete grumbles, the same time as Patrick. He catches Patrick's glance for just a second and then looks down at the floor.

Andy's silent.

"So basically, it's Pete's fault?" he asks a moment later.

Pete looks up. "Fuck you." He shoots a glare at Patrick and Joe. "I'm the wounded party here."

"You said you were fine!" Patrick shouts.

Joe, who hasn't said a word this whole time, nods and says, "You kind of did, dude."

"I _AM_ FINE," Pete shouts back. He gets up and storms off towards the bunks.

He slams the door behind him as angrily as he can. He's about to curl up in his bunk with his ipod when he hears Joe's voice and realizes they're still talking.

"That could have gone better."

"Now that he's gone, you want to tell me what that was all about?" Andy asks.

Pete crosses his arms over his chest. His bandmates suck.

"Okay, we kind of have something to tell you," Patrick says.

"Is it about how you guys have been fucking for the last few years and thought no one knew?" Andy says dryly.

Joe laughs. "I told you," he says.

Pete doesn't need to be out there to see that stupid sheepish look on Patrick's face. He can hear in his voice when he says, "Yeah." There's a long pause and then he adds, "It's about that."

"And how you didn't tell Pete because you thought he'd be a giant weirdo about it? And now that he knows he's being a giant weirdo about it?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Joe says.

"Well," Andy says. "It was nice being in a band with you guys while it lasted."

\--

Andy tries to talk to him the next day, before soundcheck.

"Pete," he says. "Stop being a jerk."

Pete gapes at him.

"Why is this all my fault?" he asks. "I didn't even do anything. I'm not mad at anyone. I'm just -- I'm just sad, okay? Just give me some fucking time and I'll get over it."

Andy regards him with a look of what Pete thinks is pity. Pete's about two seconds from telling him to fuck off. And then Andy takes a step forward and hugs him. Pete sighs. He knew there was a reason he and Andy have been friends for so long.

"Thanks," Pete says afterward. He feels a little bit better.

"Don't mention it."

\--

Patrick catches up to him later that night. Pete's outside, sitting on the steps of the bus, when Patrick walks up. Pete's about to move so Patrick can get by, but Patrick just stand there.

"Please," Pete says. "Just believe me when I say that I'm fine."

"Then why won't you talk to me?" Patrick asks.

Pete presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubs his eyes until he sees white. He doesn't want to talk about. He just wants to pretend that this doesn't hurt as much as it does. Maybe then eventually it won't. When he opens his eyes again, Patrick is still standing there, so apparently that is just not how things are going to go down.

"Because you don't trust me," Pete says. He knows Patrick can hear the sadness in his voice, but he can't help that.

Patrick takes a step back. "What the fuck, Pete? I don't _trust_ you?"

"That was a pretty big secret to keep, Patrick. Even if you guys were shit at actually keeping it a secret."

Patrick frowns at him and says, "You're kind of an idiot, you know that?" He sounds kind of pissed off.

Pete doesn't even have the time to respond before Patrick starts again.

"We were _trying_ to protect you," Patrick says it like it's obvious. "You should know by now how much I love you."

Pete doesn't know how much of this he can stick around for. He's imagined Patrick telling him he loves him a lot of ways, but this is definitely not one of them.

"Dude." Pete forces himself to laugh. "I'm just gonna go now. Before you start breaking out the 80's metal ballad metaphors." He stands up and brushes off his jeans. "It's fine. Joe's a good dude. You guys deserve to be happy."

He turns around, punches in the door code and enters the bus. Patrick follows behind him.

"Pete," Patrick says. He sounds so frustrated. Pete turns around.

Patrick sighs and shakes his head. Pete's about ready to turn and leave. He's all set to spend another night hiding in his bunk feeling sorry for himself. He's not ready for it when Patrick wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him in. He's not ready for how warm Patrick's mouth is against him. He's not ready for how much he wants this.

He shoves Patrick away roughly.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Pete says before he storms off.

He hides in his bunk for the rest of the evening. He keeps expecting one of them to try and talk to him again, but thankfully they leave him alone with his misery.

Pete waits until he's certain everyone else is asleep before he shoves his hand into his boxers. He thinks about the warmth of Patrick's hand on his skin, the way his lips were soft against Pete's chapped ones. After he comes, he feels guiltier than he ever has before.

\--

They continue to not talk about it. The shows stop sucking quite so much. Eventually they stop sucking all together and things are almost getting back to normal. Pete is, well. He's dealing. He stills thinks about Patrick and Joe sometimes, late at night, when he's lonely. He still feels guilty afterward, but it doesn't stop him from closing his eyes and imagining he can still hear them.

On hotel nights, Pete rooms with Andy. They never actually discussed it, they all just silently agreed it would be best this way.

There are two days left of the tour. Pete can't wait to get home. He digs through his pockets, looking for his room key and finally gets the door open. He kicks off his sneakers and shrugs out of his hoodie before he realizes that Patrick and Joe are in his room. They're sitting on his bed.

Pete blinks. He wonders for a minute if he went to the wrong room. Then he remembers, oh right, his room key only opens the door to his room.

"Uh, guys?" Patrick's standing up and walking over to him. "Is something wrong?"

Patrick nods.

"We decided something," Joe says. He's still on the bed, leaning back on his elbows. He's watching the way that Patrick is watching Pete. It's making Pete nervous. "It really kind of sucks that you're sad."

Pete forces a laugh. He's trying to ignore the way Patrick has gotten so close to him.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but we've sort of built our careers on me being sad."

"Pete," Joe says, "We kind of need you to not be an idiot right now, okay?"

Pete's gone from slightly confused, to down right baffled.

"Okay," he says slowly. "But what -- "

Patrick puts his hands on Pete's hips and pulls him forward.

"Close your eyes, Pete." Patrick's voice is totally calm. Which Pete supposes is good, considering he's completely freaking out right now. He takes a breath and closes his eyes.

He feels Patrick's hands slide up chest, over his shoulders, up his neck. He has to remind himself to keep breathing.

"Don't freak out this time," Patrick whispers.

 _This time_ , Pete thinks. _Oh god._

Patrick's mouth is softer than he remembers. Pete can't help winding his arms around Patrick's waist and kissing back.

When Patrick finally lets go of him, Pete is afraid to open his eyes. Afraid of seeing Joe there, afraid all of the guilt he knows is waiting in the wings to come flooding in. He doesn't move, just stands there with his eyes closed, and waits. Maybe if he waits long enough he'll wake up and discover it was all a dream.

He hears footsteps coming towards him and Joe's voice says, "Pete, it's okay."

He opens his eyes cautiously. Joe's only inches away from him now. He's smiling, relaxed and happy. Pete doesn't understand.

Joe tugs at the sleeve of Patrick's hoodie until Patrick turns to look at him and leans in for a kiss. Pete tries to look away, but he can't. He swallows against the lump in his throat as he watches them.

"Patrick's a really good kisser, isn't he?" Joe says, looking at Pete afterward.

Pete laughs through his embarrassment, looks down at the floor and back up at Joe before he nods.

"Yeah."

Joe slings an arm around the back of his neck and pulls him in until their foreheads are touching.

"I told you it was okay," he says softly.

Pete breathes a sigh of relief. He isn't expecting it when Joe backs him up against the door and kisses him just as deeply. He's pretty sure that startled gasp came from him but he doesn't care at the moment. Pete can feel the stubble from Joe's five o'clock shadow against his cheek. Joe kisses a little rougher than Patrick, which he wouldn't have guessed, since Joe's such a laid back dude.

"Fuck," Pete breathes out when Joe stops.

Patrick laughs under his breath. Joe looks kind of smug. It's actually a really hot look on him.

"You should probably just sleep in our room tonight," Joe tells him.

"Um," Pete says. "Okay?"

\--

Pete is kind of skeptical about there being room for all three of them on one queen sized bed, but Joe insists they can make it work. He points out that they're all pretty small dudes and Pete can't argue with him there.

There was some kind of decision making process where they both agreed Pete should be in the middle. They explained it would make it harder for him to escape when he woke up at three am and started freaking out.

"Man, fuck you guys," Pete mumbles as he takes off his jeans.

"Dude, come on," Joe says. "We know you."

Pete supposes they have a point. Patrick pulls back the blankets and they all climb in. He curls an arm around Pete's waist and kisses him.

"Don't act like you're not a total cuddler," he says. "This is the best place for you to be."

Pete laughs. Patrick knows him a little too well.

\--

As predicted, Pete wakes up in the middle of the night. He doesn't panic, but he is confused about for a couple of seconds. And then his eyes focus and he sees Patrick asleep next to him and remembers where he is. It's closer to 4am than 3 which is better than usual, but still annoying. He rolls over and tries to go back to sleep, to no success. He counts the seconds in "Mississippis" under his breath. Around four hundred, Joe starts to stir. He rubs his eyes and looks at Pete.

"Were you counting?" he asks sleepily.

"Sorry. Couldn't get back to sleep."

"C'mere," Joe mumbles as he rolls onto his side. Pete scoots closer. His nose brushes against Joe's as they kiss. Joe's mouth is stale with sleep but Pete doesn't care.

"Will it help if I -- I mean. Can I -- ?" Joe doesn't finish his sentence. Just trails his fingers down to the waistband of Pete's boxers and rubs lightly at his stomach. "Is it okay?"

Pete feels like his heart has jumped up to his throat. He barely manages to mumble out a, "yeah," and then Joe's hand is sliding down and curling around him.

He tucks his head into the space beneath Joe's chin as Joe jerks him off. Buries his moans in Joe's chest. He tightens his fingers in Joe's t-shirt when he comes and feels wrung out afterward. Joe kisses the side of his face and wipes his hand on top of the duvet.

"Gross, dude."

"You so have no room to talk," Joe says. "Go to sleep."

Pete does.

\--

The last night is their best one all tour. Pete buries his face in Patrick's neck, mouths the words against his skin and it feels like coming home. Andy has been giving Pete curious looks all day. Like he wants to ask Pete why things are suddenly better, but he's not actually sure he wants to know.

The after party has barely hit its stride when Pete's phone buzzes with a text from Joe.

_Meet us in our room in ten minutes._

It takes a little bit of effort, since people keep stopping to talk to him, but eventually he makes it up to their room. He knocks on the door with shaky hands. A few seconds later the door opens and Patrick's pulling him inside.

Pete smiles nervously. "Hey."

"Hi." Patrick smiles back. He presses a chaste kiss to Pete's mouth.

Joe wanders out of the bathroom in just his boxers. "Dudes, shut up and take off your pants."

Patrick laughs. He takes Pete by the hand and leads him towards the bed. His hands guide Pete by his hips and push at his shoulders until Pete's flat on his back. Patrick kicks off his jeans and climbs onto the bed, kneeling next to Pete. He unzips Pete's hoodie, pushes his t-shirt up and bends to kiss his stomach. Pete lets his hands rest lightly at the back of Patrick's neck. Patrick glances up and smiles at him before he turns his attention back to Pete's skin. Pete is definitely going to have a hickey before the night it through. He's pretty okay with that.

Joe crawls up on the bed next to him and Pete turns to look at him.

"So hey," Joe says. "You're cool with this, right?"

Pete nods, huffs out a nervous laugh. "Wouldn't be here if I wasn't dude."

"Sweet." Joe grins.

Patrick stops sucking on his hipbones long enough to sit up and say, "We'd kind of like it if you participated but if you just want to watch at first, that's okay too."

Pete doesn't respond. He's trying to remember how to make his mouth form words. It's entirely possible that Patrick has totally fried his brain before he's even gotten to take off his pants.

"Pete," Patrick says, concern in his voice. "Don't freak out okay?"

"Not freaking out." Pete shakes his head, laughing. "Just trying to process how this is actually my life."

Patrick and Joe laugh. Joe turns Pete's chin towards him and kisses him. Patrick tugs open the button of his jeans, undoes his zipper and eases them down over his hips. Joe's still kissing him, slow and open mouthed when Patrick starts rubbing him through his underwear. He makes a small noise into Joe's mouth and his hips jerk up, push against Patrick's hand.

"Dude, just wait," Joe says, "It's going to get so much better."

He gets up and wanders over to his suitcase. Pete watches, a little confused, but then Patrick's tapping on his stomach to get his attention.

"Hey," he says, "Scoot up, okay? So there's room for all three of us."

Pete's still a little confused, because all three of them were just on the bed, and there was plenty of room. He moves up anyway because he's not about to argue, and besides, now he's got all of the pillows at his disposal.

Joe comes back with condoms in one hand and -- oh right. Lube. Because sex with dudes. That's kind of important.

Patrick kneels over Pete, head level with his crotch. He shoots him a smirk before mouthing at the head of Pete's cock, through his underwear. Pete squirms.

"Maybe I should have warned you," Joe says, situating himself behind Patrick. "He really likes being a tease."

Pete manages to stop himself from answering, "So I've heard," but just barely.

Patrick sits back on his heels and turns kiss Joe. Pete watches. It's pretty excellent. He'd be happy enough getting to watch them while he jerked off, but Patrick's mouth on his dick is also pretty excellent. He'd kind of like to try that without a layer of fabric between them.

He reaches up and tugs at the hem of Patrick's boxers.

"Patrick. I'm getting lonely down here," he whines. It's the same voice he's used on Patrick for years whenever he needed someone to cuddle with.

Patrick laughs as he turns back to Pete, slides his hands up Pete's legs and rubs his thumbs over the crease of Pete's thighs. He hooks his fingers underneath the elastic of Pete's underwear and pulls them down.

"So like, how many of your jerk off fantasies involve my mouth?" he asks, kneeling over Pete again. Pete can feel his breath on the head of his dick.

"Fuck. Most of them?"

"Right on, man," Joe says. "You only think you've had good head up until now."

"I don't know, you guys have really hyped up this whole 'gay sex' thing. What if I don't -- " Pete stops talking. Patrick's mouth is hot and wet and sliding down his dick. " _Oh god_."

"What was that you were saying?"

"Nnngh," Pete groans.

Patrick, Pete thinks, is a cock sucking _savant_.

He really wants to watch, wants to burn the image of Patrick's lips wrapped around him into his memory so he can have it forever. But if he keeps his eyes open he is going to come in like, _seconds_ and they will both mock him forever and possibly never have sex with him ever again.

That, Pete realizes now, would be the worst of all possible fates.

He shuts his eyes and focuses on the sounds. He feels guilty again for the briefest moment, because it reminds him of when he was listening from a distance. But he's allowed now. He's allowed to have this. And the sounds of Patrick going down on him combined with his own quiet groans might be the hottest thing he's heard in long time.

And then Patrick's moaning around his cock and Pete has to open his eyes. Has to see what Patrick looks like when he's going down and loving it.

He opens his eyes and apparently Pete missed some pretty important things while he had his eyes closed. For one, Patrick's boxers have disappeared. And Joe -- Joe is doing some things with his fingers that Patrick is _very_ interested in, if the sounds he's making around Pete's cock are any indication.

"Oh my god," Pete pants, watching Joe's hand move somewhere behind Patrick.

And then Patrick is pulling off of him, breathing hard, his face flushed, and he rests his forehead against Pete's hip.

Joe rubs a hand over the small of Patrick's back.

He asks, "Ready?"

Patrick lifts his head, nods, and the next thing Pete sees is Joe reaching for the lube and slicking his cock. Pete can't tear his eyes away as Joe pushes into him slowly, as he wraps his hands around Patrick's hips once he's all the way in. Pete can't even think of touching his own cock right now, his mind is a steady stream of _Patrick, Patrick, Patrick_ as Joe starts to move, starts to fuck him in earnest. Patrick's making these tiny little groans, coming from the back of his throat, like he's trying to be quiet but he just can't hold back.

Pete reaches up and runs his fingers through his hair.

"Let me hear you, Rick," he says. "I wanna -- I wanna know what it's like."

Patrick groans, "Fuck, right there." He smiles at Pete and says, a little out of breath, "We can make that happen."

Pete feels a shiver run through his entire body.

Patrick bends his head and licks a line up Pete's cock, he mouths at Pete's balls, drags his tongue over every bit of skin he can find. And Pete can feel the vibrations, every time he moans, can feel his slight movements every time Joe pushes into him. He's impatient to get off, wants to guide Patrick's mouth back to his dick and push him down until he's coming, hot, down Patrick's throat.

Joe pulls out and Patrick whines. Pete watches Joe's hand working quickly over his cock. When he comes onto Patrick's back a few seconds later, it's better than any porn that Pete has ever seen. Seriously. _Ever_.

"Shit," Pete says.

Joe just grins at him as he climbs off the bed.

"How was that for a money shot?" He laughs before wandering towards the bathroom.

Patrick rolls his eyes.

"Show off."

Joe comes back a minute later with a washcloth. He helps Patrick get cleaned up, kisses him and curls up on the bed next to Pete, his eyes partly closed.

Patrick's sitting back on his heels looking at Pete.

"I think you should lose your shirt," he says. Pete shrugs out of his hoodie, raises his arms and Patrick pulls his shirt up over his head. He feels strangely vulnerable now that he's completely naked, though it's hardly like Patrick's never seen it before.

He wants to get Patrick naked too, not just to get them on equal footing, wants to see him and feel Patrick's skin against his. But he knows Patrick too well. If he hasn't taken off his shirt by now he's probably not going to. Pete's picked some stupid fights but he's not stupid enough to pick one in the middle of sex.

Patrick lays down on top him. Pete groans when their hard-ons rub together and pushes his hips up against Patrick trying to get more friction. Patrick sucks on Pete's bottom lip and Pete moans. He fucking loves that. He tangles a hand in Patrick's hair and deepens the kiss.

"Fuck," Pete gasps when they break to breathe. "I need to come so bad."

"So, are you gonna let me fuck you or are you gonna freak out about it?" Patrick asks.

Next to them, Joe snorts.

Pete wants to flip him off, but that would require he stop touching Patrick, so he refrains.

"Umm," Pete stalls. He chews on his lip.

"If you really don't want to just say so," Patrick says. He sounds a little impatient. "But you need to make a decision one way or another."

Pete frowns. "What if -- " he stops. God, he feels like an idiot. Worse, he feels like a teenage girl on her prom night. "What if I don't like it?" he asks quietly.

"Just tell me and I'll stop," Patrick says. "Do you really think I want to do this if you're not enjoying it?"

Pete shakes his head. If there's one thing in the world he is sure about, it's that there isn't anyone he trusts more than Patrick.

"Okay," Pete says quietly.

"Are you sure?"

"I said okay, didn't I?" Pete says, irritated. "Get to it, before I die of blue balls."

Joe laughs again. His eyes are closed but clearly he's still awake.

Patrick kisses Pete and rolls off of him.

"Turn on your side," he says. Pete does. He reaches out and pokes Joe in the shoulder.

"You gonna sleep through this or what, Trohman?"

Joe opens his eyes and gives him a sleepy grin.

"Not a chance," he says, scooting closer, until his forehead is touching Pete's.

Patrick lays back down, spooned up behind Pete a minute later. And then there are slick fingers slowly pushing inside of him and Pete has to shut his eyes. It doesn't hurt, really, and it's not like it's the first time he's had a finger up his ass, but those times it he knew it wasn't going to go any further than that. This is just the beginning. And Pete -- he's maybe freaking out, just a little.

Joe's fingers are trailing down his arm and his voice is calming when he says, "Dude, chill out," before kissing Pete slowly. Pete cups Joe's face in his hands, kisses him, and doesn't think about what Patrick's doing with his fingers. That is, until it becomes impossible to ignore. Three fingers brushing over his prostate with every push make it more than a little difficult.

"Ready?" Joe asks, the same way he did earlier to Patrick.

"Yeah," he mumbles.

Patrick kisses the back of his neck, the spot just behind his ear.

He whispers, "I'm gonna make you feel so good," in his lowest register, and warmth pools in the pit of Pete's stomach. He moves slowly, stopping a couple times to make sure Pete is okay before continuing.

"'m fine," he says, teeth gritted.

It hurts, but Pete's not about to say that. Then Patrick would stop and he's going to get through this, dammit. It's not like it's unbearable. It's just -- kind of uncomfortable. He's gripping tightly onto Joe's bicep and when Patrick pulls out and pushes back in for the first time, Pete's half tempted to curse him out for being as big as he is.

His body adjusts pretty quickly. The pain fades away and in Pete's mind, he likens it to getting tattooed. It hurts the most in the beginning, before his endorphins kick in and it becomes nothing but a rush.

Joe's kissing him and Patrick's whispering the filthiest shit in his ear -- and seriously he would have never guessed on that one -- and both of those things are really good, they're keeping him hard, but he feels like he's never going to get off at this point.

He's still waiting for the rush.

And then it happens. Patrick's hitting that spot with every push forward and -- fuck. It's so much better than it was with his fingers. Pete's moans sound so loud in his ears, but he can't stop, can't force himself to be quiet.

"I knew you'd like it," Patrick whispers in his ear. Pete can hear the smirk in his voice.

"Patrick, please," Pete begs. 

Joe reaches down and jerks him off with tight, quick strokes. He rubs his thumb over the head and Pete can feel his orgasm building in the base of his spine. So close. So fucking close. Patrick digs his fingers into Pete's hips as he fucks him harder and Pete is already looking forward to finding finger-shaped bruises tomorrow. When he comes, he can feel it all the way down to his toes.

Patrick follows within seconds; Pete can feel it when he stills. He pulls out a second later and Pete already knows he's going to be sore tomorrow. It takes him a moment to realize he's shaking and he pulls his arms in tight trying to stop.

"It's okay," Patrick says softly. "You're okay."

He puts an arm across Pete's chest and Joe winds one around his waist. They hold him until he stops. Pete wants to laugh at himself for being such an epic cliche.

"Can we stay like this forever?" he asks, only half joking.

"I think you're going to get cold at some point," Patrick points out.

"We have blankets," Joe says. He yanks them up from the bottom of the bed and covers the three of them.

Pete closes his eyes and breathes deeply.

"Next time," Patrick says, "I'll let you fuck me."

Pete groans at the thought. "You're such a fucking tease."

Patrick laughs.

Joe says, "I told you so."

After a moment of trying to decide whether or not he should open his mouth, Pete says, "So there's going to be a next time?"

"I told you we'd have to spell it out for him," Joe says.

Patrick rubs his hand over Pete's chest. "There's going to be a lot of next times. You okay with that?"

"Yeah, I think I can manage," Pete says. He falls asleep listening to the sound of their breathing.


End file.
